Mabui

Miguel had already conquered Konohagakure, Sunagakure, Kirigakure, and now he had just taken control of Kumogakure.

The air in Kumogakure was quite pleasant when Miguel found Mabui in his office. The silver-haired kunoichi was bent over stacks of documents, her reading glasses reflecting the dim candlelight. She didn't even look up when the door opened.

"Reports don't fill themselves out," she murmured, her pen scribbling on the paper with military precision.

Miguel smiled. It was perfect.

The first snap of his fingers was as discreet as the ticking of a clock. Mabui's clothes dissolved into silvery smoke, revealing a curvaceous body. Her full breasts swayed freely, her dark pink nipples instantly hardening against the cold air.

Mabui froze. The pen fell from her fingers.

"What—"

"Silence," Miguel ordered, and her mouth snapped shut.

The second snap transformed her oak desk into a polished steel bondage apparatus. Chains emerged from the drawers, encircling her wrists and ankles with the same efficiency with which she organized files.

"You like order, don't you?" Miguel whispered in her ear as he sank his teeth into her neck. "I'm going to teach you true discipline."

Mabui tried to squirm as he slid his fingers between her thighs—and found the moisture already accumulating there. Her eyes widened behind her glasses.

"Don't be surprised," Miguel chuckled, licking his wet fingers. "Your body knows what you really are."

When he slipped two fingers inside her without warning, Mabui's glasses fogged up. Her mouth parted in a silent moan, saliva dripping down her chin as he massaged her G-spot with surgical precision.

"Look at you," he whispered, turning her toward a mirror that hadn't been there before. "The perfect assistant for me, drooling like a bitch in heat."

Mabui shook her head frantically, but when Miguel pulled her silver hair back, forcing her to face her reflection, she saw the truth: her thighs trembling, her breasts swaying, her nipples so hard they ached.

He filled her mouth with his penis, throbbing against her tongue. Mabui gasped—and then began to suck instinctively, her lips closing around him like an official seal.

"Good girl," Miguel growled, penetrating her deeper. "Now let's rearrange your priorities."

When orgasm hit her, Mabui gasped against the chains, her glasses falling off as her eyes rolled back. The sound that escaped her throat wasn't human—it was the cry of a secretary who had finally found her true purpose.

Miguel smiled as he watched her muscles twitch in spasms. He knew that when the chains were removed, Mabui wouldn't run away. She would stay there, on her knees, waiting for the next order—because some women are born to serve.

And he had all the necessary documents to prove it.